


Interrogation techniques

by 7_percent_solution



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cake, Crack, Established Relationship, M/M, Restraints, hints of kink, mystrade, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:22:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15884109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7_percent_solution/pseuds/7_percent_solution
Summary: Mycroft was cool, calm, and confident. He’d faced tough interrogations before, particularly during his days of active duty for MI6. He’d been threatened by masters of blackmail and by those who wielded immense power....and he had stared them all down. This should be easy.Narrator: it wasn’t going to be easy.





	Interrogation techniques

**Author's Note:**

> This scene is inspired by a post in the FB group Mystrade is our Division: Fanfiction Writers and Readers that had the following:
> 
> Suspect: I ain’t talkin  
> Cop: [sharpens knife] we got ways of making people talk [cuts a piece of cake]  
> Suspect: can I have some?  
> Cop: cake is for talkers

Mycroft was cool, calm, and confident. He’d faced tough interrogations before, particularly during his days of active duty for MI6. He’d been threatened by masters of blackmail and by those who wielded immense power....and he had stared them all down. This should be easy.

He leaned back in his chair, affecting an attitude of ease despite the handcuffs shackling his left wrist to the chair’s metal arm. The handcuff clanked against the chair. Mycroft’s steely blue eyes gazed with piercing intensity at the man seated across the wooden table from him.

The man’s dark brown eyes returned the stare. He too was calm and confident. He smiled slightly, while he ran a hand through his silver gray hair, his rolled up sleeve revealing a muscular tanned arm; clearly the gray was premature as this man was in his prime. Watching at the interrogator’s quiet show of physicality Mycroft only just stopped from smiling back.

“I know you’ll talk,” said the interrogator, and the man’s voice was low and almost seductive. “They always talk for me.”

“I’ll bet they do,” answered Mycroft, all arrogant assurance. “But there’s always a first time to fail. You know I’ll never give up my secrets.”

“Oh you will,” the silver-haired man promised. He leant forward across the table and Mycroft could see that the man’s shirt was open just a button or two below the collar, revealing more tanned skin and a hint of chest hair. “I have the perfect interrogation technique,” the man said.

“I doubt it.” Mycroft sneered. “You’d have to have something truly special. So why don’t you stop playing and get on with it.” He smirked at the man.

The silver fox smiled back, but didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached into his pocket and removed a silver flick knife. Mycroft’s eyes widened in surprise. The man flicked the knife open and held it up, turning the long wicked blade so that it caught the light. This way, and now that way. He looked at it with interest, as though it were a curiosity. A piece of rare sculpture. Mycroft’s eyes followed every move of the blade, mesmerised. Meanwhile his mind whirred with possibilities, plans and he weighed up options.

Now the silver haired man put the knife on the table, the blade pointed at Mycroft, who tried for a sneer and only half succeeded. “Knives. Rather unoriginal I’d have thought,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster.

The man said nothing. But now he turned slowly in his chair and bent down to something under the table. Mycroft couldn’t see what he was doing. He shifted uneasily as the man started to straighten up again.

To Mycroft’s absolutely surprise and astonishment the man placed on the table a large chocolate cake. The icing was plain, a simple ganache, but the smell of the cake was intoxicating. The wave of chocolate hit Mycroft like a brick; thick, sweet, glorious. Mycroft’s palate was highly trained and therefore able to pick out the other smells too - cinnamon, slight hint of coffee, and perhaps rum? The chocolate was high quality too and to smell was almost to taste. Mycroft quickly swallowed down the saliva his mouth had instantly produced.

The man picked up the knife again. He examined the blade carefully, looked at Mycroft and then looked at the cake. “I have some very, uh, original, ways of making you talk,” he said, looking again at Mycroft. Slowly the man cut a slice of the cake.

The waves of smell were even more intoxicating now that the cake was cut, and Mycroft could see that the cake was two round discs sandwiched together with more ganache. Oh god, he sighed mentally. Oh god I don’t think I can do this anymore. Aloud he said “you’re......you’re going to eat that in front of me? Are you going to give me any?”

The man grinned and shook his head. “Cake is for talkers,” he said, his voice serious and low. He grinned savagely.

“Sunstone,” said Mycroft. And then “you absolute bastard.”

Across the table, Lestrade laughed. “I know, I know,” he held up his hands in mock surrender. “When Anthea texted to let me know you’d worked through lunch today and I knew we’d organised to play before getting dinner, something just kind of, clicked. I thought it was perfect.” He laughed.

Mycroft groaned. “I KNEW I should’ve gotten takeaway on the way home. I knew it!”

“Games and your lover always a priority huh,” said Lestrade, still laughing. “Aren’t you a martyr to love?” He stood up, picked up the piece of cake and walked around the table to where Mycroft was still handcuffed to the chair. “Well darling, we can finish playing later, after a snack. Got to keep your energy up after all.” He grinned devilishly. “So,” he said, looking at Mycroft as he lent on the table, “would the prisoner like me to feed him the cake or would he like to eat it from my hand?”

Mycroft glared for a moment and then, with one sudden movement of his free hand, he pushed Lestrade’s hand holding the cake right into the DI’s face. “The prisoner,” said Mycroft, now laughing “would like to show the interrogator just what he can do with his mouth.” Mycroft stood, and with his free hand pulled Lestrade towards him and kissed the chocolate ganache off the DI’s face before he’d had time to wipe it off.

Breaking from the kiss Lestrade said “I think that counts as a win for me. Please, keep on talking,” and with his cake coated hand he pulled Mycroft back into the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic got me my best feedback ever: it inspired someone to make a cake. With their kind permission, here is the recipe for a great chocolate cake and ganache. It’s perfect for afternoon tea or interrogating minor government officials.
> 
> 2 cups (400 g) sugar  
> 4 eggs  
> 1 tsp vanilla  
> 1 1/2 cups (335 g) vegetable oil  
> 2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour  
> 3/4 cups (95 g) unsweetened cocoa powder  
> 2 tsp (14 g) baking soda  
> 1 tsp (4 g) baking powder  
> 3 cups (450 g) zucchini grated  
> 1/2 cup (350 g) chocolate simple syrup
> 
> Instructions
> 
> Preheat oven to 350°F.
> 
> In a medium bowl, stir together the sugar, eggs, vanilla, vegetable oil. Add in flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and baking powder. Mix well. 
> 
> Fold in zucchini until it is evenly distributed. 
> 
> Pour mixture into a prepared 9x13 pan
> 
> Bake 40-50 minutes
> 
> Remove from oven, pierce with a fork, and drizzle about 1/2 cup of chocolate simple syrup over top. Allow cake time to set.
> 
> For the topping, a ganache with 50% heavy cream and 50% semi-sweet chocolate. Melt these together in 30 second increments, stirring it in between sessions until it became smooth, then pour it over the cake and serve immediately (with or without handcuffs).


End file.
